Chapter Three
by t0mb0y
Summary: Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favorite part because you'll see...here's where she meets Prince Charming, but she won't discover that it's him 'til chapter three...
1. Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

When I was eight years old, I got lost in the forest. 

I did not _mean_ to get lost in the forest, but fate has a funny way of being unkind. My parents had always warned me about the terrible creatures outside our castle walls, but I never paid them any mind. I just figured that my parents were being over protective and silly. What could they possibly know about the dangers of the forest, if no one ever dared to venture out? It is for this reason that I thought the forest would be a wonderful place for a game of hide-and-go-seek. It is also what started a life-long feud between me and our castle's youngest servant, Chip.

In all honesty, it's not my fault that Chip got punished for agreeing to play hide-and-go-seek with me. He was nearly sixteen at the time, and certainly old enough to know better. I mean, I was old enough to know better, but still _young enough_ to get away with not knowing any better. Chip's punishment was well deserved, for he never thought of the consequences. We couldn't have careless servants in the castle, now could we? No, it was for the best that this incident happened. I, for one, think it taught us all a valuable lesson.

I was the only child of my parents, King Adam and Queen Belle. From what I gathered, they were very well-loved by all of their subjects, but I wouldn't know anything about that. I was never allowed anywhere. Ever. It seemed that the only time I ever got to go on a journey was when I read. Every morning I would walk down to my mother's library and look for a book to read before I had to go to my lessons. I slowly worked my way through her shelves, reading fiction, non-fiction, journals, and on very rare occasions, when I was _incredibly_ bored, I would even settle for old documents and articles. They were often brown from sitting in drawers, or being stuffed between pages for so long, and the musty papers would make me sneeze if I got them too close to my face.

It just so happened that one morning, while I was enjoying my daily read, Chip came into the library. His brow was sweaty and he had a black smudge on his right cheek. I looked at him curiously for a moment before he sneezed. His head jerked forward and his hair emitted a black cloud of soot. It seemed someone had been making Chip clean the chimneys. I tried my hardest not to giggle. Polite young princesses do not laugh at others' misfortunes..at least not to their faces.

"Yes?" I asked, trying to use the most regal voice I muster.

"You're mother sent me up here," he replied, wiping his forehead and leaving a long, dark streak. "She told me to tell you that Monsieur Blanchard is sick, so you will not be having your lessons today."

I immediately perked up at the thought of having the day free.

"She also said that you may play in the gardens," Chip continued. 

This was even better! 

"But someone must watch you." 

Blast.

"Are you to be the one who watches me?" I asked, put out at the idea of having a monitor.

Chip was not the least bit fazed by my obvious dislike of the situation. "Well, would you rather spend your day locked up inside? Because, I have plenty of work to do, you know."

I wanted more than anything to get up and slap the smirk right off his face. He always treated my like a little kid, which, I must admit, I was, but no eight-year-old, especially not a princess, likes to acknowledge the fact that they do not have the upper hand. I slammed my book shut and followed him outside, making sure to frequently comment on his bedraggled appearance.

I realize now that I was a rather.._spirited_ child. My mother always said that I had more of my father's temperament than her own. To tell the truth, I took much more after my father than my mother. I inherited his cerulean eyes and flaxen hair. I suppose I had my mother's coloring, and obviously I had her love for books, but when it came down to it, I was my father's daughter, plain and simple. I remember stories from when I was very little, tales about my father and his childhood. Apparently he had not been as kind as a child as he was as an adult. I think one of my mother's main fears was that I would also inherit my father's selfishness. I paid her fears no heed.

When we arrived in the gardens, I ran off ahead of Chip and looked for something to play with. Often times one could find faerie rings near the northern gate where the rose bushes grew. I looked for several minutes, going so far as to get down on my hands and knees and look under the thorny plants, but there were none to be found. I sighed, and stood up, dusting off my frock and looking for something else to entertain me. A few feet away from me was a pond covered in lily pads. There was a giant, green bullfrog sitting on the pad nearest me. I squatted down in front of the pond and reached forward, trying to be as careful as possible with the fragile amphibian.

"Kiss him."

I made a squeak and nearly dropped the frog. Chip was leaning over my shoulder, smothering a laugh as I gathered myself. He didn't laugh outright, he knew better than to laugh at a princess, but I could see his lips itching to smile. I huffed, well aware that my cheeks were red from both embarrassment and anger, and stalked away from him, the frog still in hand.

"Oh, come on," Chip continued, following me towards the gate, "I'm sure he'll turn into a prince!"

I said nothing as I came to stop at the gate. I slipped the frog into the pocket of my dress, and wrapped my hands around the iron bars in front of me. I had already forgotten about my anger towards Chip's obnoxious behavior. As I peered out at the trees beyond the castle, there was only one thought on my mind: I wanted to be on the other side of that gate.

"Chip," I called to him, never looking away from the forest.

He strode up to me, crossing his arms in front of him. "Yes, Princess?"

I thought for a moment. How could I get out? I _needed_ to get out. "I want to play hide-and-go-seek."

Chip tried to stifle a groan, but didn't do a very good job of it. That finally broke my concentration and I glared at him.

"I want to play hide-and-go-seek," I stated, "and I order you to play and I order you to seek."

Instantly the playfulness left Chip's face and his eyes dropped from mine. "Yes, Princess Antoinette."

He walked over to a tree and began to count. I had to figure out something fast.

"To one hundred!" I yelled.

Chip paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but simply continued counting where he had last left off.

I glanced around, desperately trying to find a way to escape my prison. Eventually my eyes caught sight of a tree that had grown alongside the castle wall. I had never tried climbing a tree before, my father wouldn't let me, but I quickly needed to learn. I ran over to the tree and reached for the nearest branch, trying with all my might to heave myself up. I managed to pull myself up far enough that I could get my foot on a lower branch, and I continued this method of pulling myself up and stepping on the branch below. Finally I reached one of the highest branches. There were only three branches above me, but there were no lower branches that reached over the walls. I swung my legs over the branch, looking down at the ground below.

"Soixante-douze, soixante-treize... " I could hear Chip count behind me.

I needed to get to the other side as quickly as possible before Chip realized what I was doing. I was petrified, however. The ground looked like it was a hundred miles below me. I closed my eyes.

_Your head is higher up than you feet_, I told myself. _Your feet are closer to the ground, you just don't realize it._

I held my breath, squeezed my eyes shut, and practically threw myself from the tree. I landed on my feet, but it sent a painful jolt through my body and I faltered for a moment.

"Quatre-vingt-huit, quatre-vingt-neuf, quatre-vingt-dix... " Chip continued.

I needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. I gave myself a shake and ran full-force into the darkness of the woods. At the moment my only thought was of getting into the forest before Chip found out I was really gone. I ran for several yards, dodging overgrown weeds and low limbs, paying no mind to the cuts and scratches that they gave me. In time, I got a stitch in my side, so I slowed down, and decided to rest. I turned around and only saw trees. I could not see any part of the castle whatsoever. I must have run further than I thought.

Finally I let out a giggle. I was no longer in the castle, I was in the forest. In the forest I was not Princess Antoinette, I was simply Anne. I could giggle if I pleased, and there were no instructors to tell me it was unladylike behavior. I felt something wiggle in my pocket, and I pulled out the frog from earlier.

"Hullo," I said to the frightened creature. "My name's Anne. Sorry if I scared you. It's been quite an exciting morning, hasn't it?"

The frog just stared at me with its big, bulging eyes.

"Chip said you were a prince, is that true?"

Again the frog stared.

"Well, I'm going to call you Prince anyway. You can be my prince if you want."

The frog gave a low, deep ribbet, and I was delighted. It might not have been a direct answer, but my young mind took it as an agreement. I slipped Prince back into my pocket and started to walk through the forest.

The deeper I walked into the forest, the more conscious I became of my surroundings. Many of the trees were so tall and so close together that I could not see their tops, and it made me somewhat uncomfortable. The forest was open and free, I had found my escape, but the unknown vastness of the wood made me feel smothered and trapped. It reminded me of being under the covers in my bed, or being surrounded in complete darkness. In the dark you couldn't see anything, so you had no idea how much room there was to move around. It was a very closed feeling. I patted Prince for reassurance and continued walking.

Soon enough I grew very tired, very quickly. I was used to taking a nap every day after lunch. I had come to a small clearing and decided it would be suitable for napping. I was a little bothered by the idea of laying my hair down in dirty twigs and leaves, but I was much more tired, so I eventually just laid down on the soft ground. The sun leaked in through the cracks between leaves overhead, and warmed me with its golden rays. The warmth made my eyelids heavy and soon I forgot all about the fact that I was laying on the ground, and began to snooze.

When I woke up, the air was much colder and there was not as much light coming in through the trees. I sat up, slightly groggy, and it took me a moment to realize where I was. I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling out a couple of leaves and stood up, dusting off my clothing. I flinched when my arm brush against my body, and looked down to see large scrape and caked blood on my skin. I must have scraped my arm without realizing it when I jumped out of the tree. It didn't hurt except when I touched it, it was very raw and stung. I sighed and looked around.

The parts of the sky that I could see had changed in color. Earlier the sky had been a clear blue; very nice for a walk in the forest, I might add. Now it was slightly pink and orange. I had slept longer than usual and I needed to get back before my parents got _really_ worried. The only problem was, I couldn't remember which direction I had come from. I reached into my pocket and pulled out Prince. Thankfully, I hadn't smashed him during my sleep.

"Do you know how to get home, Prince?" I asked.

Prince stared at me, as usual. 

I sighed and put him back into the pocket. I was wasting time and the sun was going down fast. I looked up and saw that the pink and orange sky was already turning a deeper shade of blue. I had to find a way back. I turned and recognized a bush from earlier. I remembered specifically because it was growing red berries and I had briefly considered eating a few to quiet my growling stomach. I walked towards it and continued walking straight from there, hoping to recognize more plant life.

The further I walked, however, the less recognizable things became. And not just because of the growing darkness. Somewhere I had made a wrong turn because it seemed that I was going the wrong direction. I knew for sure when I came upon another clearing, larger than the last one. I had not passed any other clearings earlier in the day. I paused here and tried to think through my situation. By now Chip had surely figured out that I was not hiding from him and alerted my parents.

_They didn't know I was in the forest._

Surely after searching the entire castle from top to bottom, which, I thought, shouldn't be too difficult, after all, we had many, many servants, my father would send a troop out into the forest to search for me. 

_Yes,_ I decided, _I shall just wait here._

So I waited, shivering slightly as the final beams of light completely disappeared and I was surrounded by blackness. I must admit, I wasn't only shivering from the cold. I was alone, in the forest that my parents had warned me about a hundred times before, and it was not only cold, but dark, too. Luckily for me, it was not yet winter, or else I would surely be dead by morning.

_Stop that!_ I berated myself. _You are not going to die!_

A long, sad howl sounded in the distance, and I shot up in an instant. Several more howls were added to the original, and I started shaking from fear. I backed up until I felt my back hit the solidness of a tree trunk, and dropped to the ground, feeling for something to defend myself with. 

Eventually I found a rather large limb, which I picked up and held against my chest, willing myself to breath quieter. I could feel the gritty, rough wood under my fingers and it hurt to hold such a large object in such a stiff position, but I did it anyway. There was a hard pressure behind my eyes, blurring my vision, which was of no use in the dark, anyway, but it forced me to blink repeatedly so that hot tears didn't spring forth.

My breath caught in my throat as I heard the howling getting closer, and I sat as still as I possibly could, although fear had me rocking back and forth slightly. Sweat was dripping down the sides of my face and bit my lip, hoping that the wolves would go away. My entire body locked up when I heard the snapping of twigs before me. Then I heard twigs snapping to the side of me. And then the other side. I covered my mouth with my hand, almost completely blocking the airflow to my lungs. 

I dropped the limb.

I couldn't see, but I knew that a wolf caught sight of me. The fear shot through my body.

"Momma!" I screamed, with all my might, even though she couldn't hear me.

I heard the wolf lunge.


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N:** Apparently bullfrogs can live up to fifteen years…didn't know that! Anyway, I love reviews (hope to hear from you!) and would like to thank TrudiRose for reviewing!

CHAPTER TWO

As I said, when I was eight years old, I got lost in the forest. Nine years later, my parents still didn't completely trust me, and Chip hadn't given up his grudge. From what I understand, his punishment wasn't that brutal; my father felt that Chip had suffered enough from the worry and hysterics he went through while searching for me. As for me, in addition to several hours of my father yelling, I was forced to sit, cooped up in the castle, for almost an entire year. My mother wouldn't even let me go out on her balcony.

It was hell, _pure_ hell.

Time went by, and my parents gradually forgave me. Soon enough I was allowed to walk the corridors by myself, and I no longer required a chaperone during my reading time. I suppose my mother feared I might literally be transported into the setting of my novels. Whatever the case, it took me years of good behavior to earn my parents trust again, all because I had decided to take a stroll through the forest. What really bothered me was that I couldn't even remember a great deal of my adventure.

I could remember how I escaped from Chip, and I remembered walking during the day. I could even remember how hungry I was, and how icky I felt from the dust and sweat. What stuck out most in my mind was the fear I felt right before the wolves attacked me. Actually, to tell the truth, they never attacked me. See, that's where I draw a blank. I remember being frightened out of my mind, hearing the wolves all around me, and then...nothing.

My father's men found me outside the northern gate in the morning, with a few scratches here and there, but nothing serious. I still don't think my parents believe my story about the wolves. I don't know how I got home. I just woke up, about mid-day, with a splitting headache. I still had Prince in my pocket.

And at age seventeen, I still had Prince. According to Monsieur Blanchard, if kept in captivity, bullfrogs could live up to fifteen years. I believe Prince wanted to prove that fact. I kept him in my room, feeding him flies and letting him hop around where he pleased. Because my father would no longer let me go outside, my mother let me bring the wilderness into my room.

In addition to the small pool I kept for Prince to swim in, my mother had our servants bring me flowers from the garden. I was allowed to have my window open, but never to sit on the sill as I once did. All year round, my room was a bouquet of assorted colors. My mother even allowed me to paint wildlife scenes on my walls, much to my father's dismay. I think it broke her heart to see me trapped within the walls of the castle, never seeing the true daylight, but she was afraid of me running away again. In addition to this, my father was very determined to keep me inside, and although he and my mother had a very healthy relationship, he was king and his word was rule.

For my fifteenth birthday, Chip built me a bookshelf, his way of letting me know he didn't totally _despise_ me. Once I had my own bookshelf, mother noticed that more and more of her books were being misplaced, and eventually came to my room, only to discover that almost a hundred of her novels had ended up there. The ones that weren't in my shelf were stacked next to my bed, and a few were even spread out on the dresser. I was worried she might be angry. But she just raised an eyebrow at me. 

"Darling," she said, taking a book from my pile and holding it to her chest, "I don't mind you reading my books. I don't even mind them being stored in here. Just make sure that the doors are always kept open so that I have access to them."

I nodded and she smiled at me, walking out as quietly as she had entered. 

That was usually how conversations between us went. My mother was very intelligent, I knew that, but she always seemed far away, almost like she was in another land. My father said that she had a passionate temper if pushed far enough, but in all my years of living, I had yet to see it. Generally she just smiled at me, or spoke to me in soft tones. It was my father who would sit and bicker with me, or correct my faults. He had a way of knowing how to get my goat, even more so than Chip. 

Mrs. Potts, Chip's mother...how a kind old woman like that ever ended up with an annoying scab like Chip, I'll never know...reasoned to me that it was because my personality was so much like my father's. She said that people clashed when they acted so similarly. 

Personally, I never saw much of my father's attitude in myself. He was always moody and quick-tempered. There were times when he could be quite haughty. He was never like that towards my mother, though. No, he always treated my mother with love and respect, hanging on her every word, and treating her like his equal. Which she was. 

In my teenage years I was often forced to sit and mingle with the nobles, and one thing that I noticed was none of the high-society women matched my mother when it came to intelligence. They had been raised in a world that taught them to act like proper young women, but they had never been faced with the harsh realities of the working class. Nor do I believe any of them had ever bothered to open a book when it wasn't required.

Yes, I had great respect for my mother, for I knew that I would not be able to spend more than one day fending for myself. I had learned that already. I like to think this is why I had such a difficult time respecting my new tutor.

Shortly after my seventeenth birthday, my teacher, Monsieur Blanchard, became very sick, and my father told him that he needed to rest instead of worrying over me. From what I heard, he told Monsieur Blanchard that it was difficult enough for someone _his_ age to be keeping up with the likes of me, and he couldn't imagine how difficult it was for man twice his age. This is how I came to know Madame Guillory.

From the beginning, things were strained in our relationship. She was only slightly younger than my mother, perhaps several years, but she acted as though she were a decrepit, old maid. She combed her dark, red hair back in a severe-looking bun, not a hair out of place, mind you, and her eyebrows were permanently arched in an expression of posh elegance. She was very pale, but she had a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and nose, that popped out from her face whenever I angered her. And I angered her often.

"Something must be done about the princess," I heard her tell my father, one evening before I retired to my bedroom. "She is very stubborn, and that's a bad example for your subjects. It's no wonder that Monsieur Blanchard became ill, it's very vexing to try to teach someone who is so unwilling."

There was a silence and I knew my father was thinking over what Guillory had said. I waited, practically leaning in, so as to not miss a word of their conversation.

Finally, my father spoke. "What do you propose?" 

"Well," Madame Guillory replied slowly, I could tell she was picking her next words carefully, "in my experience, I have found that unruly princesses tend to calm down after they find themselves a husband."

"Are you suggesting we marry Antoinette off?" I could hear alarm in my father's voice.

"No, not necessarily," Guillory amended. "I simply thought it might be wise to begin looking for suitors...perhaps if only for a courtship."

I could not stand to hear anymore. I stormed up to my bedroom and vehemently ordered my handmaidens to leave immediately. I'm quite embarrassed to say that I proceeded to throw myself down on the bed and sob into my pillow for several minutes before finally calming down. It had been a long time since I had been so enraged. In fact, I could never remember being so thoroughly disgusted with my surroundings.

Well, that's not entirely true. After my father was done yelling at me for running away, he forced me to sit and listen to the wisdom of Cogsworth, which I was none too pleased with. This was all before Cogsworth retired, of course, and would I often find myself missing the supercilious rants that he would go into. But I remember how angry I was with my father for taking away my freedom and forbidding me to go outside. I think it was the closest I had ever come to hating him.

Before now. Who was he to marry me off? 

….the king _and_ my father. So, technically, I had no choice but to go through with his decision.

_Unless..._

Unless I wasn't _around_ to go through with the ordeal. Damned if I was to let someone decide my fate for me. Not even God could tell me what to do, and I was going to make sure my father knew that. 

I sat and waited, plotting for my second great escape.


End file.
